Page 70 of One More Day
‘What do you mean, you don’t talk to each other?’ he asks. ‘He makes you dinner, but you don’ttalk?’
‘No, we don’t talk unless we must. We communicate by text, or we leave each other notes. It’s one of our house rules.’
‘You’re kidding me!’
‘I’m not,’ I reply, knowing it sounds as strange as it really is. ‘It was his idea. We text each other if need be, and we stay out of each other’s way as far as possible. The dinner was a one-off gesture as I was genuinely hurt. My knees are still a bit—’
‘So, you’ve never had a conversation? In four days?’
‘Bits and pieces, just,’ I say, realising it’s the truth. ‘Well, we walked home from the pub when we were a bit tipsy last night. He pointed out some stars and the northern lights and – yes, that’s probably the most time we’ve spent in the same place at the same time since we got here. It was nice. I think.’
‘Rose …’
‘It’s cool! It was no big deal, I swear. We’d sat beside each other in the bar beforehand for ages and barely said a word, so the brief stargazing was hardly romantic. Anyhow, our four days of minimum conversation arrangement, it’s working. We haven’t had a row or really annoyed each other – or at least I don’t think we have … yet.’
‘Ah, well I’ve heard it all now,’ Rusty says, in amazement. ‘You two sound as bad as Marion and I.’
‘How?’
‘All picture, no sound. We don’t talk to each other either.’
He laughs even though I know he doesn’t find it funny.
‘Oh Rusty.’
‘In fact, every time we do talk, it turns into a full-blown argument, so it sounds like your arrangement is better than mine. Ah, I don’t know. Relationships, eh?
He stands up with a sigh and I notice a shake in his hands as well as in his voice. I’ve never noticed that before.
‘I hope you’re OK?’ I say as he goes to walk away, but he comes back again and leans down towards me.
I think I know what’s coming.
‘I’ll be grand. Now, I know you’re going to tell me to mind my own business,’ he says, ‘and feel free to tell me to do just that, but since you’re only about fifty minutes away from your parents’ house …’
I point my finger in his direction with a smile.
‘Mind your own!’
‘I must ask,’ he continues. ‘I’d kick myself if I didn’t. Would you not go home for Christmas?’
‘Oh Rusty, don’t, please.’
I’m more serious now. I put my head in my hands, but he keeps going.
‘I know I couldn’t drive you all the way to Dublin, but Icoulddrive you to see them before Christmas Day. Now, I’ve said what I wanted to. The offer is there if you want it.’
I slide my hands down my face and look up at Rusty whose pleading eyes touch my soul, but I just shake my head slowly. A lump forms in my throat.
‘You know why I can’t do that,’ I reply. ‘And please don’t go against my decision by telling anyone from home I’m staying here. You said you wouldn’t. Please don’t let Mariontell them either. Promise me, Rusty. I just need one last Christmas alone.’
He shrugs and holds his arms out wide.
‘But you’re not alone, are you?’
‘You know what I mean,’ I say. ‘And it’s not like I’d exactly planned this arrangement, is it?’
‘No,’ he replies. ‘OK. I won’t mention it again. Your secret’s safe with me if that’s what you want, but I can’t speak for Marion …’
